


To Berlin, With Love

by Thranduil_is_a_bitchking



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Angst, Can't watch one bloody show without finding a gay ship, I have feels, M/M, Spoilers, Spoilers for S2 E10, also, can't stop writing these two, no happy ending, questionable German, season 2 destroyed me, smh, sorry lads - Freeform, these two boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8987260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thranduil_is_a_bitchking/pseuds/Thranduil_is_a_bitchking
Summary: Obergrüppenfuhrer John Smith flies to Berlin in the hopes of stopping a war. He is successful, but a what cost?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello beautiful people! I am back with another John/Joe fic because this show has ruined my life. I had too many feelings after the season finale, and let me tell you my shipper heart can't deal with all this animosity between my two babies.  
> In case some of ya'll can't read tags, there be spoilers. Just sayin'. Also, I've only been learning German for six weeks, so if anything is wrong, please let me know!  
> As always,  
> Enjoy!

' _Sie sind verhaftet wegen Hochverrats und wegen des Mordes an dem Führer._ '

Joe turned. 

The doors to the office were wide open. Himmler and John led a group of men into the room. Two came to stand beside Joe, and two came to stand beside his father.

'Father?' Joe asked, turning back to his father. 

'Your father poisoned the Fuhrer to advance his own position, Joe,' John explained. Joe turned to look at him. He couldn't handle the softness in John's voice, nor the concern and regret in John's eyes. Joe shook his head. This couldn't be right. His father was a great man who would never do such a thing. Joe didn't understand, and was halfway to accusing John of lying before a shout drew his attention. It all happened so fast. There was the sound of metal dragging against wood, then a click. 

Then, came the sound of the gunshot. 

Joe's eyes followed the barrel of his father's revolver to the hole in John's chest. His entire world imploded. Time stood still. All he could see was John, eyes wide with shock and pain. The rest of the room moved around him in muted slow motion. Joe ran forwards. Two strong arms grabbed a hold of his own. Joe lurched at the sudden deceleration. He gasped, winded. His heart felt like it was strangling him. If his chest constricted any further, Joe was sure he would die. 

He watched as John blinked, pressed a hand to the wound leaking blood into his uniform. Joe was screaming, fighting the soldiers restraining him to get to John. His throat burned and his eyes stung. His chest constricted in agony. He needed to get to John.

Himmler nodded, and Joe fell forwards. The room emptied, but Joe didn't notice. He ran to John, desperate and terrified. Arms around John's shoulders, Joe eased him to the floor. John's back was warm and strong against his thighs. A warm wetness seeped through the fabric of Joe's trousers. He pressed a hand to John's wound. Two fingers of the other searched desperately for John's pulse. It was there, but growing weaker by the second. Blood flowed between Joe's fingers. He shook with sobs, head shaking back and forth as words, pleas and denials all fell from his lips. 

He moved a hand to cup John's cheek, to stroke the backs of his fingers over those high cheekbones. Joe's eyes closed, the press of his lashes releasing beads of warm, salty tears that tracked down his cheek. 

John coughed, a drop of blood trickling from his mouth. 'Joe.'

'Please,' Joe begged, blinking tears from his eyes. 'Please, no.'

'I'm sorry, Joe,' John managed, eyes wide and warm and impossibly sincere. They were green and blue and gold. Joe thought that they could've held all of space within them. They were endless, so full of colour and of life. Joe was watching that very same life drain away from them. 

'What for?' Joe asked, his thumb leaving a path of red across John's cheek.

'For everything Joe. For being such a bastard.'

'You were one of those, a bit,' Joe chuckled. He shook his head, his hair falling in front of his face. 'But don't be sorry,' Joe told him. 'You did what you had to do.'

'Doesn't make it right.'

'No,' Joe choked out. 'But I forgive you.'

John smiled. One of his hands grasped Joe's wrist. Joe slid his hand into John's own and held it tightly. He raised John's hand to his lips, gently pressed his lips to John's fingers. Joe's eyes fluttered closed, and he committed every detail of John to memory.

John coughed as he inhaled. The sound was wet and gurgling. More blood gathered in his mouth and spilled from his lips. John's hand slipped from Joe's, and Joe rushed to catch it again. He cradled it in his own, running the pad of his thumb over John's cooling fingers.

'I'm sorry,' said Joe. He inhaled and choked on it. He coughed, then released the air on a sob. He'd been so horrible to this beautiful man, so caught up in himself and his own problems. The arguments he'd had with John, they all seemed so inconsequential now. 'I'm so sorry.'

John smiled, reached up to wipe a tear from Joe's cheek. 'I forgive you.'

Joe choked out a laugh. 'John, I-' Joe found he couldn't continue his sentence. Instead, he covered John's hand with his own, leaned into John's weak touch. Head bowed, he sobbed. Agony flared in his chest. Blinking through the haze of tears, Joe looked up to lock eyes with John. 'I love you.'

It felt so good to finally say it. The agony came with knowing that this was the first and the last time John would ever hear him say it. Joe'd say it again, then. He'd say it as many times as he could before John could no longer hear him. He'd say it, always, in his head from now until the day he died. Because Joe Blake was in love with John Smith, and he'd been too much of a coward to say it until now. 

'I love you John,' said Joe, with so much pain and so much conviction.

John smiled, weak but there. 'I love you too, Joe,' he said. Joe's smile was watery in return. He leaned down, gently pressed his lips to John's. John tasted of blood, and cigarette smoke, and something that was _John_. Joe held John's hand to his cheek when John no longer had the strength to keep it there. They kissed until John stopped kissing Joe back.

Joe rested his forehead against John's, held John's body close while he cried. His hands cradled John's body carefully, as if he were only sleeping. What felt like an age passed until Joe could bring himself to let go of John's body. 

Gently, he eased John to the floor, laid him down so that he would be comfortable. A raged breath, then two, then three. Joe stood. Covered in the blood of the man that he loved, Joe's heart hardened with grief. 

A revolver sat on the table, mocking him, _taunting_ him. Joe took it, clicked off the safety. With one, last agonising look at John, Joe opened the doors. 

Himmler was waiting in the corridor. Joe's father stood, smiling, restrained by two men.

Joe raised the gun, and shot him. 

Heusmann fell to his knees, clutching his shoulder. Himmler looked at Joe, and nodded once. Joe took it as what it was. 

Joe stood in the golden hallway, staring at John's body through the doors of the office. Distantly, he could hear Himmler making his speech. 

' _Wurde der amtierende Kanzler für Hochverrat, für die Ermordung des Führers und den Mord an dem Obergruppenführer John Smith verhaftet._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Please drop me a comment and tell me what you think!


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